“Perhaps you are right,” Shim said. “But perhaps they are not so different from us. Who is to say that some of these creatures might not find it in their interest to stand aside, to delay, in order to weaken an enemy? From what you told me of the creature in the cave, they are not unified.”

“We should prepare for the worst,” said Argoth.

“If they come at us with all their might, can we withstand them?”

Argoth had witnessed the power of the Skir Master firsthand. He’d felt the might of the being in the cave. She’d raised living things from stone. She’d smitten him so powerfully with the illusion of her beauty that it echoed in his heart still. “The old gods once fought them and kept them at bay for years. But we have lost too much.”

“Then we shall find a way to open the seal on this book of yours and learn the things we forgot. We shall raise an army of dreadmen. And we will find someone who can bear the weight of the victor’s crown. We cannot hesitate, my friend. Mankind’s hour is in our grasp.”

Argoth looked at Shim and wondered. The man had a weave his family had passed down, he had an ancient device-what was his history? Not all humans could wield the powers of life with equal effect. Not all could quicken themselves to the same degree. Bloodlines mattered. Was he simply a man with a powerful family heirloom? Or was Shim part of a line that stretched back to the old ones?

Argoth felt as if he’d had this conversation once before. Indeed, had not both Nettle and Ummon, his son of long ago, been asking him to fight? To step fully out of the shadows? Perhaps Hismayas had never intended his Order to hide itself so deeply.

He realized it was time, whether he wanted it or not. The wheels were in motion. The Order was going to stand forth in the sun.

“We will fight,” said Argoth. “We will raise an army from Koramite and Shoka, from Vargon and Burund.” He thought of the Groves scattered through the many glorydoms. He thought of the dark days before he joined the Order. Of the men and women who yet walked those forbidden paths. “There are many in every nation who will anwer our call.”

The very next morning Argoth told Serah everything. Serah did not weep. Instead, she turned as hard as stone. Later in the day Matiga, without invitation, showed up with a pot of spicy sausage and potatoes and her famous currant rolls. The girls ate it all with relish, but neither he nor Serah touched their food. They both knew he had stolen her son. She had every right to hate him.

When the cleaning was done, Matiga sent everyone but Argoth and Serah outside. Then she turned to them both.

“I assume he’s told you all?”

“Yes,” said Serah.

Matiga might not be able to see it, but it was clear to Argoth. She was a pot of simmering fury.

“At least he got that right,” said Matiga. “And I assume you know what will happen if you tell your sisters before Lord Shim brings this before the Council.”

“I do.”

“We will bind you with an oath,” she said. “And you will keep it.”

“I need no binding,” said Serah. “But I will take it anyway.”

“Good,” said Matiga. “He was stupid not to bring you in. Women provide ballast. And that’s something this one desperately needs.”

“Indeed he does,” said Serah.

Argoth tried to take her hand, but she moved it away. “The woman talked about restoring Hogan to his body,” said Argoth.

Matiga and Serah waited for him to go on, but he could not. He could not tell them that he almost wished Talen had not overcome the monster. He could not tell them about the dreams he had of that woman guiding his hands as she had guided the monster’s, except instead of him kneeling between two bodies, he stood with one hand on Nettle’s scarred neck and the other holding the filtering rod.

Argoth looked down. “I am not myself. The roots of the thrall still work in me.”

“That will pass,” said Matiga.

So said the books, but he still felt a compulsion and prying. A door somewhere was still open. A door to another being like the one they’d faced in the cave.

They’d discussed what had happened in the cave, and they’d realized that every Glory in every land was ruled by such a creature. Every Glory was cultivating a field and delivering its harvest.

“We don’t have the knowledge to fix this open door in me,” he said. “We don’t know their powers. It is better to just eliminate the threat.”

“No,” said Matiga. “We don’t have the knowledge. But we will. We have the gifts of Hismayas: the victor’s crown and the Book.”

“The Book has always resisted us. And the crown-well, we obviously don’t know all we should about it.”

“No,” she said, “we don’t. But I think I understand a few things I did not before. I think we should try to open the Book again.”

“And if we fail?” asked Serah.

“We have the seafire,” said Matiga. “We have our lore. We might know less than we’d like, but we know enough. If we cannot unlock the secrets of the Book, then we shall prepare with the knowledge we do have.”

All this talk of the enemy didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Argoth thought of Nettle again. Of the trust and pain that had shone in his eyes as Argoth drew forth his Fire.

He looked up at Serah. “Nettle was a man. He made the choice of a man.”

“I’m not angry with Nettle,” she said, pain and frustration and anger flashing in her eyes.

Argoth waited.

“You said you’d tell me a story about a woman who married a monster. You’ve told me that story. And it was all true. Now you need to wait for me to tell you the end.”

Argoth nodded. He would wait. He’d wait, if he had to, until the Creators raveled the earth.

49

In the days following the battle in the caves, Uncle Argoth and Lord Shim began raising dreadmen. The Creek Widow and River began teaching Talen the first things about using Fire and soul and the history of the earth. But Talen found he couldn’t focus. The monster had saved them all. Talen needed to honor its last wishes.

Talen was able to convince River and the Creek Widow to join him. He went back and stood on the hill above the refuge and looked down at the valley where the Divine had battled. The damage was clear to see-great erratic swathes and loops of dead grass and trees. Off to one side of the meadow a boar staggered and sounded out its pain.

Talen suspected he knew why. By the time he descended the hill, the boar was on its side kicking weakly. There was a wound on its side-that was probably the spot where the raveler had wriggled in. The boar might have been sleeping or eating. It could have been doing any number of things when the weave had found it. But Talen was sure it was the cause of the boar’s throes. Then the boar ceased its struggling.

Talen waited, and not long after his suspicions were confirmed: the raveler worked its way out from underneath the animal and snaked into the grass.

Wearing the white, gold-studded gauntlets, Talen quickly plucked it up. The raveler immediately stilled, and he placed it in the case.

After obtaining the raveler, he searched for the monster’s stomachs.

Uncle Argoth and the Creek Widow had taken the remains of the original monster and opened it up to discover its lore. They’d also search their books for any record of the sons of Lamash.

They did not unlock its mysteries. In fact, the mysteries seemed only to multiply. But Talen was able to identify what he might be looking for. Inside the creature’s chest had been a row of identical organs, black as coal, woven of willow withies, and merged into the flesh of stone. One, Uncle Argoth said, contained soul.